


nineteen

by Nakimochiku



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve remembers Bucky at nineteen</p>
            </blockquote>





	nineteen

Steve remembers Bucky at nineteen, leaning out the window with a cigarette, sunlight bathing his face gold, sliding on the curves of his muscles, his bare chest, like something tangible, like water. Steve thinks to tell Bucky to stay like that, just like that, while he draws, but he doesn’t say anything at all. It's better, sweeping his charcoal with a loose wrist across the sketchbook paper, when the subject doesn’t know he’s drawing them.

Steve remembers Bucky at nineteen, looking natural and smooth, leaning out a window with a cigarette, the image hopelessly, pathetically recreated in smeared black lines and the implication of shadow. He remembers Bucky's fingers curled at his mouth around the cigarette, full pink lips wrapped around its end, and those fingers falling away to the window sill, the light suddenly changing as a cloud passes over the sun, lending Bucky the cool air of an earthbound angel longing for tastes of heaven.

Steve remembers Bucky at nineteen, turning back into the apartment as he flicks the cigarette butt out the window, his eyes landing on him with a smile. "You drawing me, Stevie?" He laughs, smoke billowing from his mouth around his words, leaning back against the still as he poses, loose and languid, head tipped, his hair flopping into his eyes unstyled, watching Steve draw him, chest shifting as he breathes. He remember drawing this too, Bucky playful and composed and at ease, trying to capture the curve of his smiling mouth, but never getting the fullness, the implied impishness just right.

Steve remembers Bucky at nineteen, posing and laughing with his eyes, stinking of cigarette smoke as he leans against the window and the afternoon steeps the air in red and gold. He captures that, but truth be told, without the pictures, all he would remember is Bucky's voice around his name, and the sound of his laughter.


End file.
